Iron Is Wrought Like This
by Gabi Howard
Summary: -Maddigan's Quest- Timon's story; 15 years in 15 hundred-word drabbles. Spoilers through to Laketown.


**I**

The sound of grownups talking fills the room, as it normally does of an evening. Timon holds Eden close, ready to shush away nightmares, soothe troubled sleep so that plans can be made without great minds worrying about small children.

A few months from now, he will shiver in a cell where the only noise is that of the guards' boots. Years from now, there will be animals beyond caravan walls, and the sound of snoring within. But for now there's danger, fear, words Timon doesn't understand- and love.

Years from now, he will forget that he was happy here.

**II**

They come for him at school. Or, more precisely, when he's leaving school. There are two strangers and a group of scientists- Timon's parents included- at the exit, and the children slow to a halt on seeing them.

"Dad?" A dozen voices ask, or "Mum?"

Their parents say nothing. The strange men say "orders from the Nennog", and the guards march towards the children.

Timon runs and gets his first scar when one of the strange men- the one with dark hair and a metallic glint to his skin- chases him and catches his leg hard enough to break it.

**III**

The cells are cold and lonely, but their captivity is far better than Timon would have imagined. He'd heard horror stories- of torture and pain- but in reality his routine is much like the one at home, only without his parents or Eden.

Except for punishments. Those are far harsher, and after his leg heals and he tries to run home, Timon finds out exactly why the workers hate the scientists so much. Factory work is hard, exhausting, dangerous, and he gets his second scar when his tired, staggering feet put his back into the path of a wheeling blade.

**IV**

The other children were his friends for the first few months here. When Timon returns from the infirmary, however, they are almost cold, crowding him out.

He tells himself he doesn't care, reasons that running and talking and playing would make the slowly-receding pain worse. He takes to watching the scientists instead- the Nennog's favourites, the ones with proper laboratories- and in his cell at night, he makes grand designs for experiments of his own on the walls.

He's not yet old enough to know how a Panopticon works, though, or that he's being watched with approval from its centre.

**V**

"You have it?"

"Fully prepared, my lord. There is... just one problem."

"What is it?"

"A weakness, the- the only flaw, I assure you.

"_What is it_?"

"The nanoshells may be, ah, weakened a little by radiation, sir-"

"In which case, it will work as long as he stays indoors. Give it to me."

"Of course, my lord."

"You may leave. Send Ozul in."

"O-of course, my lord. Thankyou, my lord."

"Sir?"

"That geneticist. I want him and his experiments wiped."

"Of course."

"And you may release the children tomorrow. Timon too. Their use here is done."

"...understood, my Lord."

**VI**

The room their family share is smaller than he'd remembered. Odd, that. But he wouldn't have much space anyway- his parents are half-smothering him in hugs, almost like they're trying to reassure themselves that he's still here, still alive, still Timon. Eden hangs back until they draw him in, like the big happy family they were before the soldiers took him and his Mum and Dad, for all their plans and ideals of justice and freedom, did _nothing_.

If they notice the scab on his upper arm, or the scar just barely covered by his top, they don't mention it.

**VII**

The plan, for all the time it took to lay, is set in motion in a ridiculously short time. Days later, sitting on an unfamiliar bunk (in a _truck_, of all things- he's never been in a vehicle before, never had his own bed), he'll let himself feel dizzy, but at the time, there's only panic, running, footsteps and _Eden, we've got to go now, we need to leave before- run, Eden!_

He fumbles with the slider, and later he'll realise that it was then, in another moment of chaos hundreds of years prior, that Ferdie Maddigan's life was lost.

**VIII**

"If we win," he whispers. It's a week after their arrival, and the Fantasia are still suspicious, but willing to give them enough space for Eden to grieve in peace now that he's realised just what they left behind. "If we win, they'll be there when we go back. They won't be wiped because there'll be no-one to have wiped them. Ssh, ssh. I promise."

And here, surrounded by pure nature of the kind they'd only heard whispers of before, even Timon can believe it'll happen. The journey ahead- Ozul and Maska and everything else- is forgotten, just for now.

**IX**

Timon's intelligent enough, Garland realises- able to read, write and help with the trucks. But after that appalling display at Gramth, she's noticed that he needs to learn how to dance. And sing, too- his voice is worse than _Lilith's_.

So...

"It's not difficult! Just put one foot in front of the other, there."

"Like this?"

"No, not... oh, fine. There. Now, move your left foot like that, then your right. That's- no, Timon, wait, there's a ditch-!"

It takes hours to get the leaves out of her hair, but the laughter's worth it.

Singing lessons, however, are definitely off.

**X**

"You never used a crossbow before?"

"No," says Timon. He may have spent his childhood pretending not to listen to the rebels' plans, but they'd all been limited to words, whispers, fists if they were idiot enough. No real weapons- only the Nennog's men had those, and they weren't about to share.

But he doesn't say that, keeps his face carefully blank in response to Tane's gaze. And after a moment, there's a nod. "Alright then. You hold it like this..."

He's never going to be proficient, granted. But the fact that he can hold one is enough for now.

**XI**

Goneril's the maternal sort, he notes- not that it isn't obvious. Jewel is safe with her, and the others have taken to Eden. His own nightmare was embarrassing, but it drew them further into the group, made the adults that much more protective of them. The Hillfolk almost ruined everything, but the events of that day, and the story he told afterwards, cement it. They're welcome here, safe.

And even though Timon had initially intended for it to be a calculated thing, impersonal (they're not here to _socialise_, after all), he begins to realise that the affection goes both ways.

**XII**

A few days after the near-disaster at the mines, Goneril wakes to an otherwise-empty bed, and steps outside to see Timon murmuring a lullaby to the baby in his arms, shivering from more than just the morning chill.

"Garland said you weren't feeling too great. Anything I can do?"

He blinks, shakes his head. "Save your supplies. I've been worse."

There's something in his voice there- something that puts her hackles up. But Goneril knows when to keep quiet and so they sit together, silent and resolved that the baby in between them will never learn to speak like that.

**XIII**

He only notices the hand on his shoulder when it moves to his left one. It's too small to be Goneril's, and it's a right hand- can't be Eden then. As Bannister turns away, he flicks his eyes to the left and sees that Garland's standing with Maddie, too far away.

Boomer? Surely not. But he's the only person it could be, and Timon... doesn't mind at all.

He doesn't smile, but the irony of his feeling at home here for the first time since they arrived when they're saying goodbye to someone will make his lip quirk later on.

**XIV**

_I do things sometimes... I don't understand them._

That was a lie. He didn't at first, but it's not like he hasn't thought it over since. He might not like it, but the pieces are falling into place. The Nennog taking a child from each family of scientists, watching them for years before giving them back. The pain that stopped after he'd been captured by Ozul and Maska- a time he couldn't remember.

He knows _exactly_ what he's doing.

Later he will ask Garland why she didn't tell anyone he'd changed. What he'll want to know is why he didn't.

**XV**

When Timon is taken by the Nennog's men, their parents told him that his brother loved him, that it had been done for Eden's sake.

Eden believed them.

When Timon returned, thinner, scareder, lonelier, he said he loved him in a quiet, hoarse voice.

Eden trusted him.

When Timon grabbed him from the Witchfinder's chair, he clutched him, whispered fiercely in his ear- _I love you._

Eden knew he did.

When Timon's chained to what was once a lantern, he says nothing because he doesn't love him right now.

Eden can only believe he will, soon.

The alternative is unthinkable.


End file.
